“But what if I hold it like this?” asked Eunice.

“Try it,” I said. There was only one way to learn. Our lives depended on it.

Eunice gripped the plastic lettuce cutter and held it to her shoulder. I stifled a small giggle at the image from an old horror flick. She thrust the knife into the broadest part of the watermelon. It stuck in, but the knife itself broke in two. Shards of bright yellow plastic flew everywhere.

I grabbed the long cook’s knife and swung it overhead and, in one swift motion, brought it down to cleave the melon in two. The red pulp dripped off the cutting board like blood.

“Haley…” she said, wide eyed. “You’re deadly with that thing.”

I smirked. “I told you only the steel one would work.”

Photo by poppet with a camera